Mucking with Movies: ‘Beetlejuice Beetlejuice’

My options were “Reagan” or “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.” Of these two tired concepts better off being forgotten, I opted for the one where the main character’s charisma has prevented us from regulating him to the dirty dustbin of history where he belongs. The one whose legacy has lionized him without looking at the reality that his influence has been a succession of failures and ridiculous fawning. So you know, “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice.” 

I do not care for legacy sequels. You get a ten-year window to follow up, but after that, it’s time to move on to other ideas. Asking an artist, in this case mainly Tim Burton and Michael Keaton, to recreate the fleeting magic that came with the original creation’s greatness is a ridiculous, defeatist task. It’s how most of “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” feels — a disappointing squeeze of a putrid orange. 

Briefly, during the first act, my hope to see something decent flared as Burton opted for a fun claymation deviation to describe a character’s death. I thought, “Maybe Burton will take this opportunity to explore some unique visual themes that only he is capable of! How exciting! A callback to what made him so successful at his career’s start!” He never returned to the visual theme. In fact, most of the bonkers visuals that made the original so popular are forgotten about. The original “Beetlejuice,” which I do like, all jokes aside, had an onscreen gag that simultaneously scared and made you giggle probably every four minutes. This one spends valuable screen time diddling around with boring, mundane cliches. When it finally does get around some classic Burton practical effects bits, you’re too exhausted to enjoy them. 

One moment in particular stands out as a wasted opportunity. The scene where Astrid (Jenna Ortega) busts through a wooden fence on her bike in the most boring way possible. It is done in a single shot, with nothing more than a few planks of wood falling. You would think, at the fantastical idea of a bike being able to easily plow through a wooden fence, it would be the perfect opportunity for some buffoonery. Maybe merge in the claymation, maybe have the wood splinter into millions and millions of tiny pieces flying into every corner of the frame, maybe do something that isn’t basic. Something that shows you haven’t committed yourself to being a soulless, thoughtless cash grab. 

Catherine O’Hara as Delia ends up carrying what little quality this film has as she turns in a hysterical performance. Where the writing fails her, she is still able to wring out every possible potential. Not a line out of her mouth is wasted, every single word maximized. Perhaps nobody is better at toeing that line between funny and melodrama than her. 

William Dafoe is usually similarly incredible at this balance. When I realized he was in the film, I thought it to be a brilliant casting. An impeccable pairing between acting and director. But he, too, is inexplicably toned down. I would have thought they would have him playing up every spec of his usually eccentric style, but he ends up becoming an odd fit in a film that should be tailor-made for him. In the end, he falls to the film’s ultimate sin as he is lost in the shuffle of too many villains and too many subplots. None of them end up breaking through, making everybody and everything feel unceremonious. 

For the most part, and I understand perhaps this is only a me problem, but I just don’t care. The original “Beetlejuice” came out when I was a twinkle in my father’s eye. I have no fond memories of discovering it on a Saturday afternoon with my friends after we rode our bikes to the cinema after buying ice cream for thirteen cents or whatever it is people did in 1988.

All I know is that now I am being unwittingly subjugated to this nostalgia-baiting hackery rather than getting the chance to have my own generation’s “Beetlejuice” from a young hot director with zany ideas. This is not entirely Burton’s fault — in fact, he likely holds the minority of the blame, but he is taking up theater space and budget allocation from more deserving storytellers.

The saddest thought is realizing that if “Beetlejuice” came around today with all its campy nonsense and silly-for-silly-sake fun, it wouldn’t have a hope of getting greenlit. 

Critic Score: 3.1/10

Jack Simon is a mogul coach and writer/director who enjoys eating food he can’t afford, traveling to places out of his budget, and creating art about skiing, eating, and traveling while broke. Check out his website jacksimonmakes.com to see his Jack’s Jitney travelogue series. You can email him at jackdocsimon@gmail.com for inquiries of any type.